


no matter which way you stay

by arthur_pendragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Drabble, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, Past Relationship(s), Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/pseuds/arthur_pendragon
Summary: “Oh, I will give the child the world, Merlin, but I won’t share you,” says Arthur, laughing and winding an arm around Merlin. “I can’t. You’re all mine, you hear?”--A drabble for the prompt "a drabble, super fucking angsty, featuring the word dainty or a Christmas ornament".





	no matter which way you stay

**Author's Note:**

> does mistletoe count as a christmas ornament? hope you like it, anon

The queen has retired for the night; most of the nobility in the hall is following suit. Merlin watches Gaius amble towards the entrance, wishing he could accompany the old man. The king, however, is in no mood to bring the Yuletide revelry to a close, not now that he knows —and all of Camelot knows — that he will have an heir to his throne in less than a year.

“More wine,” he calls. Merlin obeys. This man is not his friend anymore. Merlin is not obliged to care beyond the minimum, though care he will — madly, secretly in his heart, until he’s dead for the night. “You don’t seem very happy tonight, Merlin. Come, sit.”

Merlin doesn’t. He smiles, answering, “I am beyond elated, my lord. Shall we move the celebration to a more private location? Your chambers, perhaps?”

The king agrees easily. He relinquishes his hold on his wine goblet and bids goodbye to his knights. Merlin walks with him in the deep hush of the sleeping castle, not needing light to make his way around anymore. Ten years he’s lived and suffered here.

“I hope he’ll have her dark hair with my eyes,” Arthur says after a few minutes of hearing nothing but their footsteps. “So he’ll have something of his grandmother. I hope he has his mother’s dainty mouth, her disposition, her poise. I want him to have the childhood I didn’t. I want him to be loved.”

“He already is,” Merlin murmurs. “I look forward to serving him when he is born.”

“Oh, I will give the child the world, Merlin, but I won’t share you,” says Arthur, laughing and winding an arm around Merlin. “I can’t. You’re all mine, you hear?”

Merlin remains silent, lets the weight of his king’s arm disappear from his shoulders.

Arthur’s good humour fades as they approach his rooms. “Look,” he whispers, glancing upwards. Mistletoe hangs from the ceiling, probably placed there by a playful chambermaid for the king and queen. “Lovers kiss under it, don’t they?”

“Yes, my lord.” Merlin sidesteps the plant ( _parasite_ , he thinks, _that drains oak and apple and kills vitality in all that it touches_ ) and goes to the door, but Arthur places himself directly under the mistletoe and seizes Merlin’s arm, pulling him towards himself.

Merlin’s heart constricts terribly but he doesn’t resist Arthur’s drunken plea, opening his mouth under Arthur’s and kissing him back with a noise that Arthur quickly swallows, crushing Merlin to his body. The wet sounds of their kisses are frighteningly loud in the corridor; with a thrill, Merlin realises Arthur doesn’t care. His hands are cold under Merlin’s tunic, gliding up his chest, to peaked nubs, making Merlin tremble and whimper, but his breath is hot on Merlin’s face, just like the tears pressed between their cheeks. He won’t look at Merlin because his eyes are closed.

“Run away with me,” Arthur begs between kisses. How familiar Arthur’s tongue feels against Merlin’s. “Please. _Please_. I love you, my Merlin. Over everything else, even the unborn child.”

“You chose this life, sire,” Merlin pants, making sure they’re still under the mistletoe. They won’t have an excuse otherwise; Merlin would never touch Arthur otherwise. “You were always meant to be king and father first. It’s all right.”

It isn’t.

“No,” Arthur sighs. But whatever momentary insanity had overtaken him vanishes and he moves backwards, clearly hard. Merlin doesn’t stop him.

“Good night, Merlin.” With a lingering look at Merlin, Arthur opens and closes the door behind him.

Merlin breathes, and breathes. The mistletoe shivers, spills its pristine flowers over him.


End file.
